All language subtitles for Thunderbirds - 02x05 - Ricochet

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'Thunderbirds are go! '

- Good morning, Power.
- Good morning, Professor Marshall.

- You're early.
- I came to check the fault.

It was cleared.
The countdown continued.

- Good. What's the new EBO?
- 15.03 hundred hours.

Four hours to blast-off.

I'll leave you to it.
Or rather, the computer to it.

Automated countdowns,
computer-controlled launchings...

- It was different in my day.
- That's progress, Mr Tracy.

Yes, but it just doesn't have
the same excitement.

I remember one time,
the rocket was experimental, and...

- Hey, Tin Tin.
- Yes, Mr Tracy?

Turn it down a bit.

But Michelle And The Asteroids are great!

They're certainly loud.

'Well, folks, that's just about it for today.
Focus in tomorrow.

'We've another non-stop,
ginormous session with me,

'Rick O' Shea.

'Remember, all the way with KLA.'

- Isn't he minty?
- I can't see much in him myself.

- How about you, Brains?
- Pop music is too repetitive for me.

But I must admit the rhythm
has a certain hypnotic effect.

- You're just jealous.
- Jealous...of that clown?

Wait a minute. You're all overlooking
one important point.

Those TV-casts
come from a pirate satellite.

Oh, what harm does it do, Mr Tracy?

It's dangerous.

Satellites orbit the world
in an internationally controlled path.

KLA is an uncontrolled menace.

It could cause
a very serious accident.

It's Rick O Shea
Got it?

- You just loused it up twice.
- I doubt anyone was tuned in.

Very funny. How about breakfast?
It's your turn.

It should be ready.

How I ever got landed with a guy like you,
I'll never know.

The feeling's mutual, I assure you.

Oh, no!
Not Honey Crunch Crispies again!

We do advertise them.
They gave us a year's supply.

'Minus one-eight-zero.

'One-eight-zero seconds.'

'Minus one-twenty.

'One-two-zero seconds.'

- Power. A quick word.
- Hello, Professor.

Your transfer to Area Control is through.

That's great!
I mean, I'll be sorry to leave.

I understand.
Automated launchings can be boring.

'Minus 60.

'Six-zero seconds.'

I wish you good luck for the future.

Thank you, Professor.

'Minus ten. One-zero seconds.'

'Five...four...three...two...

'one...zero.'

- We must keep in touch.
- Yes, of course.

Everything here seems under control.
I'll see you again before you leave.

Fine. Thanks, Professor.

Professor! Emergency!

- What's wrong?
- I'll get a computer read-out.

The second stage hasn't separated.

It looks bad.
Switch to manual control.

- Try to activate cut-off.
- Right.

No response.

It seems we have a rogue bird
on our hands.

- Keep trying.
- It's no good. It won't clear.

Contact ISC for clearance.
I can't risk it. We'll have to abort.

Calling International Space Control.

'International Space Control.
Calling International Space Control.

'This is Sentinel Base.

'International Space Control,
come in, please.'

Go ahead.

'This is Sentinel Base.
We have a failure on a Telsat Four.'

Request clearance to destroy.

Will calculate clear station
and inform you. Out.

Cheer up. We can do nothing
until we get the data.

It's the first one I've lost.

- It happens. That's why we have ISC.
- It's a good system.

Without their confirmation,
we might destroy another satellite.

With a full record, ISC can allocate
an area free of other orbits.

That's great! I got it.

Hey, Loman, how high do we orbit?

Para-G,
one-two-zero point five miles.

- Aper-G, one-four-zero point two.
- Average one-two-eight?

Nearer one-three-zero.

What's a mile or so?
"The station that's great, from one-to-eight."

What do you think?

Fantastic.

International Space Control
to Sentinel Base...

Here it comes.
Sentinel Base. Go ahead ISC.

Here is the information.

Deceleration and grava-pull
are accounted for.

'Trajectory, 0.89 permanent.

'Time, one minute,
zero-seven seconds.'

Area reference, A4.

Destruction altitude,
one-two-eight miles.

'Repeat, one-two-eight miles.'

Information understood.
Thank you, ISC. Out.

Set detonation for 52 seconds,
one-two-eight miles.

All set.

Detonation - minus 38 seconds.

♪ The station that's great,
from one-to-eight ♪

Ten seconds...

Detonate.

Everyone has a bad launch.
Don't blame yourself.

I just wish my last one from here
had been better.

Well, at least no lives
were endangered.

O'Shea. Are you all right?

- O'Shea!
- Over here.

- Are you hurt?
- No, I'm OK.

What happened? Was it a meteorite?

No, it was an explosion.
I'll have to check.

- Look! What a mess!
- The external damage worries me.

We're on the air soon.
What a shambles!

You're not going to carry on?

While we're OK, the show goes on.

- We could have been killed.
- But we weren't. We telecast as scheduled.

Base to Thunderbird 5.

Do you hear me, John?
Come in Thunderbird 5...

Base to Thunderbird 3!

- Loud and clear.
- What's the situation, Virgil?

We transferred the replacement
module to Thunderbird 5.

'It won't be working
for three hours.'

Three hours?!

Gordon's stayed to help John.

It's routine, Mr Tracy,
but it takes time.

I don't like Thunderbird 5
being non-operational.

We agree, Father.
They'll do it as fast as possible.

OK. I hope no one
needs us in the next three hours.

- I need to assess the damage.
- Don't worry.

- I should still take a look.
- You can't. We're on in two minutes.

And Loman, concentrate, will you?

OK, OK.

OK. Ready?

A big hello to all you earthbound
pop-lovers. This is Rick...

Rick O'Shea, your...

..your disconaut with another show
featuring the Sensational Sixty.

And to start,
Little Luther and Shram-Shram.

- You were late again!
- I've important things to think of.

- If you do that once more...
- Get back. The tape's ending.

Shram-Shram)

- Would you lay the table, Tin Tin?
- Sure, Mrs Tracy.

Don't you ever stop
watching that guy? He's a pain.

- Don't be silly, Alan.
- Silly?! It's you who's silly.

- I'm not.
- You are...silly gone on Rick O'Shea!

Now, now. Don't let Brains
and Virgil come back

and find you quarrelling.

Wasn't that great?
At Number Four in the Sensational Sixty...

I'm cutting transmission.

- Listen...
- You listen. We're in big trouble.

We've moved in orbit.
The explosion has made us decelerate.

Make sense!

We're on a slow descent,
as if we'd fired retros.

- Towards Earth?
- Yes.

What's the problem?
We're built for re-entry.

- We had to land one day.
- Not without parachutes. Look!

So?

There's nothing to slow us down.
We'll be annihilated.

I'll go outside.
I should've done so before.

- Wait...
- Do you realise how serious this is?

- I wouldn't go out for anything.
- Someone's got to go.

Rather you than me. Closing airlock.

Open outer door.

Rick...

O'Shea.

Ha! Easy!

I'm at the damaged area.

- How is it?
- 'Bad. I'm coming back for a laser.'

- Can you fix it?
- I don't know. Maybe.

Close the outer door.

Opening airlock.

- Hey, Loman, the door's jammed.
- Try again.

- It's not moving.
- Keep trying.

It's no good! It's jammed solid.

O'Shea,
you've got to get me out of here.

It must be the set.
I'll ask Brains to fix it.

- It's in perfect order, Tin Tin.
- It can't be.

I checked it right out, and there's
nothing wrong. Must be the station.

- It's no good, Loman.
- Did you get the circuit diagram?

Yeah,
but it might as well be in Chinese.

My air supply won't last for ever.

Don't you worry. I'll get you out of there.
Just wish I knew how.

- Hang on, buddy.
- All right...

but hurry!

Maybe I could... Hey, Loman,
how do I turn on the transmission?

Transmission?!

Yeah, transmission.
I'll call for help.

Just turn on the power.
It's all set.

- Fine. Hang on, buddy.
- 'Right.'

This is station KLA.
We're in trouble and need help urgently.

We'll be two hours
before we're back in business.

Meanwhile, International Rescue
is non-operational.

This is space station KLA.

We're damaged.
The engineer is trapped.

'We can't hold out much longer.'

If you can help, make contact.

Loman, can you hear me?
Are you all right?

- I'm sure I heard the TV.
- Aw, come on, Tin Tin!

You said it needed fixing.
I'll take a quick look.

Must have been my imagination.

I gotta keep trying.
This is station KLA.

This is an emergency.
We need assistance urgently.

'If you hear this, please make contact.
We need help desperately.'

Alan, quick! I have an assignment
for International Rescue.

Go ahead, Mr Tracy.
You have a radio link with O'Shea.

Thank you, Brains...
International Rescue to space station KLA.

Wonderful! Loman's trapped,
and the door's jammed...

Take it easy.
Tell me slowly what happened.

There was an explosion.
Our space station was damaged.

Do you know how bad the damage is?

No, we were knocked out of orbit.

- Any more details?
- No.

Listen,
stay tuned to this frequency.

We'll be there as fast as we can.

Virgil, launch Thunderbird 2.
Go with him, Brains.

Yes.

- Alan and Scott. Thunderbird 3.
- Just my luck. It had to be him.

I know you don't like him,
but our job is to help.

- Sorry. I understand.
- Thanks, Alan.

- Now let's get flying.
- Yes, sir.

- There goes Thunderbird 3.
- We're right behind.

Loman, can you hear me?

'Hang on, old buddy.'

Come on. Come on.
He can't hold out much longer.

Thunderbird 3 to KLA. Over.

'Calling KLA.'

KLA hearing you loud and clear.
When will you be here?

We're three minutes away.

- We'll make visual contact soon.
- That's it.

They're losing altitude.

We must work fast
before re-entry begins.

'We're going to come alongside.

'When we're in position,
open the outer airlock door.'

Right.

O'Shea, is Loman conscious?

He doesn't answer.
He must have passed out.

- I'm going across.
- 'FAB, Alan.'

He's in a bad way.
I'm bringing him back.

Be careful.

'Is he OK, Alan?'

- 'Just about.'
- We're losing altitude constantly.

We'll re-enter in four minutes.

OK. Tell O'Shea
to get into a space suit.

Loman's OK.
I'm going back to help O'Shea.

Right. Now listen, O'Shea.

Loman will recover.
Put on a space suit.

- 'There isn't much time.'
- I can't do it.

It's no good. I can't do it.

I'm in the airlock.

'Is your suit on correctly?
I'll cut my way in.'

I must tell you...

'There's no time for talk.'

- I just can't do it!
- 'Get a grip.'

I'll take my chances in here.

Scott, O'Shea is chickening out.

There's very little time, Alan.
The ablation temperature is rising.

'Go out after re-entry
and you'll be torn apart.'

Close the door, O'Shea. I'm coming.

ISC to International Rescue.

International Rescue receiving you.

We understand
you are assisting space station KLA.

We have radar contact with it.
It is now in a sub-orbital descent.

Don't worry.
Those on board were transferred.

'Good. But there's something else.'

It's heading straight
for the oil refinery at Ab-Ben-Dhu.

Wow! The biggest refinery
in the Middle East.

There would be severe damage
and fire.

Right. We'll do what we can. Out.

It's not over yet, Brains.

How do we tackle it, Brains?

By destroying the space vehicle
in the air.

Over the desert, it'll do no damage.

But we must do it
before it gets near the refinery.

There she is, Brains.
Looks like it's breaking up.

Better get to the missile turret.

FAB, Virgil.

Are you in position, Brains?

Yes. Have visual contact.
Ready to fire.

'A big hello to all you
earthbound pop-lovers.

'This is Rick O'Shea.
At Number 19...'

- 'Hold it! '
- What's wrong?

O'Shea is still transmitting!
The idiot!

He must have really flipped!

- 'Didn't Scott and Alan rescue him?'
- 'They were going back for him.'

We assumed they'd saved him,
but he's still aboard.

Thunderbird 2 to base...

'Thunderbird 2 to base.
Come in, please.'

- Thunderbird 5 is off the air.
- Which means we can't check.

It also means we've got to choose
O'Shea, or the refinery.

It's one life against many, Virgil.

It's still not easy.

We have to think
what Mr Tracy would do.

The staff at the refinery come first.
Get into position.

Hurry, Brains!

I can't. Not in cold blood.

- We're running out of time.
- I know, Virgil.

- We must act fast!
- We can't save O'Shea now.

We can divert him from the refinery.

- You mean veer him into the desert?
- At least it eases my conscience.

- OK. How do we do it?
- By tilting his craft off-course.

- Use Thunderbird 2 as a bumper car?
- That's it.

Let's go!

Look out!

- Two feet lower and...
- I know!

Get under it, Virgil.
Try to flip it over.

It's no good. We'll get smashed up!

Steady.

You've done it, Virgil!
OK, level out.

It's stuck!

Phew! That was close.

Poor O'Shea. But what could we do?

Don't think about it, Brains.
Let's go home.

The lesson's been learned.
No other pirate station will go into orbit.

Unless they get
international authority.

O'Shea was irresponsible,
but I liked him.

Aw, he was all right.

- You're still jealous.
- I'm not!

Rick - Pting!
- O'Shea's greatest fan...

- Tin Tin.
- Oh, Alan!

Virgil, Brains? What is it?

- We know we did as you would...
- ..but O'Shea was killed.

Killed, boys?
He's as alive and well as I am.

- But we heard his voice.
- Virgil's right, Mr Tracy.

I think I know what happened.
I was cutting through the door...

Don't come near me! I can't do it!
I get vertigo climbing stairs!

Take it easy. Put the helmet on.

I'm not going out there! Keep away!

'In his panic,
he started one of the tapes.'

'A big hello to all you
earthbound pop-lovers.

'This is Rick O'Shea.
At Number 19...'

- That must be what you heard.
- I'll be darned!

It's certainly wonderful
to know he's safe.

I've got another surprise for you.

'I have great pleasure in welcoming
a fellow disc-jockey to the studio.

'As you may have already heard,

'he had a hair-raising
escape earlier today.

'Ladies and gentlemen, Rick O'Shea.'

'Thanks, Tom. A pleasure to be here.
I'd like to say this -

'I'd like to thank
International Rescue.

'They wouldn't give their names,

'but I hope they're watching.
Thanks, boys.

'Especially the guy who got me
to the rescue vehicle. Thanks, pal!

'I want to play a special request...

'for Mr T and family, from TT.
I hope that makes sense to someone.'

Tin Tin!

'And here it is. Number 12
in the charts, Flying High.'

♪ My heart jumped over the moon
Now I'm flying high

♪ Just like those Thunderbird men
Flying high... ♪

- Tin Tin, what a nice thought.
- Thanks, Tin Tin.

I think I'll go take a shower.

- Alan.
- Yes?

You never told us
how you got O'Shea out of there.

I don't want to bore you.

Is it connected
with the black eye he'd acquired?

Yeah, Alan. It was a beaut!

It was the only way,
I had to make him see reason.

- Tut, tut.
- Sure, Alan, sure.

- I did it in the line of duty.
- Alan!